A late Xmas cracker and two New Year’s resolutions…

I was never one for New Years resolutions – as someone else once famously said ‘they’re something that goes in one ear and out the next.  But this year I’ve made one.  ‘Oh, aye’ I hear you yawn.  Bully for you. So what yeeeeee-aaaawwwnnnnnnn  is it?  I’ll tell you….  I’m going to maintain and expand this blog on a daily basis – or as near as dammit depending on just how much I want to let-on about what I actually do with my days!  It’ll list the pubs and occasional clubs I go in, record my thoughts on who and what I’d seen that day, run down all the goss and tittle-tattle I hear about Worcester’s pubs and let you know what I think of the a) ale, b) bar, c) crowd and d/e) day’s events. Sadly, given that I’m no longer any great party-animal, resolutely refuse to drink at home save the odd night-cap and/or bottle of vino with a meal, and also that I’m a year and a bit into my various pensions, it won’t be anything to rival ‘Lost Weekend’ – but at the very least it’ll keep the old michael active (Michael Caine…  oh, you can fill-in the rest!).  Additionally,  it might make you smile, it’ll keep me amused and it’ll serve as an aide-memoire as to where I’ve been – a bit like a snail’s trail!  What’s more, it’ll save my doctor continually staring at me open-mouthed, clapping her hand to her forehead and feigning a Jane Austen style fainting fit and exclaiming ‘but that’s enough to sink a battleship’ after I’ve responded to her eternal (and eternally hopeless) question  ‘now Robert, have you managed to cut down your drinking?’  As if.   Fortunately, yesterday proved a cracker…  things to do in the day time, so unusually first pint (Banks’s Bitter) came at tea-time in The Retreat at Norton. Not an experience I’d be inclined to recommend, heartily or otherwise.  Then to the main business of the day – albeit 25 minutes after I’d said I’d be there: the ever-pleasurable pastime of signing books.  Last night’s was at The Mount Pleasant. Great pub.  Great folks. Great evening.  During the session I heard the truth about what happened the night Tom Jones appeared at The Lakes; was given a long list of ‘new’ characters for Vol 2; was promised access to the notes for a book on Worcester pubs that never got written; met a mate (who I was once so pally with I made him one of my daughter’s godfathers) that I haven’t seen in 30 years or more; chatted among others to a twinkly-eyed 91-year old and a lovely young lady that was, as I was forcefully reminded three times on the way home, young enough to be my granddaughter; kicked myself several times for not having ventured in there sooner; blushed several times over comments made about the book; was asked to settle a dispute about what actually happened at The Garibaldi on the night of the murders; made new friends I didn’t know I had; and was transported back at least a decade or two as I saw all around me something of what many of Worcester’s old pubs used to be:  friendly and funsome.  And here’s resolution #2:  I’m going to be going back there.  I finished off the good work nearer home with a couple of bottles of Marstons Old Empire in St Stephens WMC as I chatted to Robbie Reid who last weekend had his hair, moustache and – thanks to me and gaffer Rob Barnett – his eyebrows shaved-off for the eminently worthy cause of St Richards Hospice who pocketed well over £1,000 from his big-hearted sacrifice.  Oh yes, yesterday was a cracker.  And thanks to all who made it so.  

 

Something for the weekend, sir?

5-hour bash in Wackers yesterday for daughter’s 40th!

Yes, right, thanks for asking… the weekend was um, interesting.  In short, a bit o’ this, summat else and a bit of the other (no I didn’t mean that, did I…?  A variety of drinkstuffs, I meant to say)!  Saturday lunch, pint of Cannon Royall Arrowhead (3.9%) at the brewery – aka The Fruiterers Arms at Uphampstead. They describe it as ‘a clean tasting, straw coloured bitter. From the aroma of hops right through to the hoppy, dry aftertaste, it is a delight to drink’ – and frankly I’d be hard-pressed to disagree. Absolutely bloody cracking. Then a pint of one of its big brothers Millwards Musket Ale (5%) – their description: ‘…dark brew which has rich malty aromas that lead to a fruity mix of bitter hops and sweetness and a balanced aftertast’  whatever that might be (I think they meant ‘taste’ but far be it from me to argue).  My description? Sound as a pound. A round of funsome, pally and pretty much harmless banterising fuelled up by a couppla pints o’ trusty fail-safe Banks’s Bitter at the New Inn.  Followed by a quiet, solitary (by my own choice) sit down, a scan of the ‘Daily Mail’ crossword and pint of lager – yes I own up, bang to rights guv.  Except in mitigation may I cite the bottle of Marstons Old Empire (5.7% – yes, 5.7%!!) in St. Stephens WMC to top-up, tastify, fortify and generally pave the way for the evening ahead?. Brisk walk ‘ome,  quick shower’n’shave, half the crossword solved, a row over which shirt I was expected to wear, then sulking like a naughty schoolboy who’s just had his legs smacked, to The Swan at Whittington for daughter #2’s 40th birthday do. Guinness there – £3.40 ouch!  Then to her’s  for a few more cans and wines.  Usual Sunday morning devotions had to be cancelled on account of said daughter #2’s 40th birthday, but champagne for starters at around midday helped  – well, a bit. Then to Bushwackers for a 5-hour bash. Two glasses of wine and another lager (utterly no excuse this time) £12.60. Meantime the clock’s minute hand  whizzed round another 300 times before we were whooshed off back to hers for a second family party – from which I snuck off early, for which, so far, I’ve got off fairly lightly. Two more Banks’s Bitters in The Anchor Diglis, taxi ‘cross town, and a bit of a Marston’s nightcap back in St St WMC.  As weekends go, all I can say is that it went. And quickly. Not to mention extravagantly. Oh aye… and expensively. Hopefully a more thrifty and back-to-basics weekend routine next week… but no guarantees.